


Reconcile

by helens78



Category: King Arthur (2004)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2004-07-15
Updated: 2004-07-15
Packaged: 2017-10-05 11:41:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 885
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/41381
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/helens78/pseuds/helens78
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Galahad does not appreciate it when Gawain speaks on his behalf.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Reconcile

**Author's Note:**

> Follows a particular scene in King Arthur in which Gawain volunteers the both of them to fight for Arthur. Galahad doesn't look thrilled about it. In my devious brain, slash was the obvious result.

"Galahad, _wait_\--"

But he's not waiting. His steps take him out of the courtyard and into the castle while Gawain trails behind him.

"Blast it -- Galahad -- _stop_."

"You had _no_ right." Galahad turns and grabs Gawain by the front of his tunic. One hard shove and Gawain's stumbling a few steps back. "_No_ right to speak for me. This isn't our fight anymore. We were supposed to be _free_."

"And we're _not_," Gawain spits back, coming forward and grappling for Galahad's arms. "Did you miss that somehow? Rome holds our discharge papers hostage. We either go with Arthur or we die fighting Rome to let us leave."

"Then maybe I'd rather die." Galahad jerks in Gawain's hands, but can't shake the older knight loose. "I had a family, Gawain. I remember my mother. I want to go home to them. It's all I've _ever_ wanted."

"Well, I pity you your dreams," Gawain says, "and the end of them, but for pity's sake, man, your death isn't going to get you home." He gives Galahad a rough shove. "It's one more assignment. Just one."

"It was already just one!" Galahad yells. "And we managed it. If we do this, it's only going to be one more last mission after another. The next pope. What next, Gawain? Some holy relic from the Roman savior?"

"_Stop it._" Gawain shakes Galahad again, harder this time. "Maybe you'd rather die. But I wouldn't. And if I'm going to live, you are damned well coming with me."

"And that's what it really boils down to, isn't it?" Galahad asks. He almost sneers it. "You can't stand the thought of being without your whore. You'd take one more mission after another until you grow bored of me."

Gawain's expression flattens, and he lets Galahad go. He doesn't even give Galahad a chance to look surprised. By the time Galahad realizes what he's said, Gawain's heading down the hall and up the stairs.

* * *

Gawain lies curled on his side in bed, still awake after being here this way for nearly an hour. The bed's too quiet. Too big. He's grown far too used to sharing it with Galahad.

He thinks he should have known better. Galahad, out of all of them, was always the most determined to go home. Of course he'd be the one to feel the most betrayed. And even if it was no fault of Arthur's and certainly no fault of Gawain's, it doesn't warm Gawain's bed, knowing there's no fault to it.

Gawain rolls onto his back, thumping his head back against the pillow, and sighs hard. He wonders where Galahad's been all night, though he knows he shouldn't. Galahad's angry. Galahad does a number of things when he's angry. Sometimes he drinks, enough to regret it in the morning, though never enough to keep him from doing his duty. Sometimes he fights, coming back with new bruises and cuts across his knuckles. Sometimes he finds a willing girl to fuck, and comes in late, smelling of women, and Gawain has to force himself not to shove Galahad out of the bed.

Drinking, fighting, fucking -- Gawain's not sure what he hopes for tonight. He finally falls asleep with the question still sharp in his mind.

* * *

The soft snore in his ear finally wakes Gawain up in the morning, and he's dragging a pillow out from under his head and batting at Galahad with it before he's awake enough to realize what it means.

Galahad. _Here._ Back in bed with him.

"Stop it," Galahad mutters, batting at the pillow in return. "Too early for that. Let a man sleep."

"How long have you been here?" Gawain demands, shoving his pillow back under his head. "I didn't hear you come in."

"Came in at dawn," Galahad yawns. "Needed to think a while."

Gawain's already looking at Galahad's hands. Galahad doesn't smell like a brewhouse or a whorehouse, and that leaves fighting. But he's not bruised, either, and Gawain frowns.

"Thinking?"

"I wanted to go home," Galahad murmurs. "I still want to go home. But I should never have said -- what I said to you." He reaches up to stroke his fingers down Gawain's beard. "I know what I've been to you."

"You know what you are to me?" Gawain asks. He waits until Galahad gets sleep-worn eyes on him, then continues. "You're my shield-brother. My fellow knight." He pauses. "My lover," he says quietly. "You were right when you said I don't want to be parted from you."

"You don't have to be," Galahad answers. "Today I'm with you. You and Arthur and the rest. We have one last mission for Rome. Then it's over."

And Gawain would ask _And what next?_, but he's never asked that about a mission. Never asked what comes beyond a slice of his future that might mean his death.

Galahad pushes himself up on his elbows and then reaches for Gawain, pressing lips to lips and kissing him gently. "Don't think now," Galahad whispers. "It's early yet. Take me. Let me have something that reminds me of you every moment of today's ride."

Gawain takes Galahad's hand and kisses his knuckles. "I'm glad you weren't out drinking," he murmurs. "Or fighting. Or fucking."

"Only thinking," Galahad whispers. "And it brought me back to you."

_-end-_


End file.
